Beloved Friend,—"beloved Persis, who hast labored much in the Lord,"—we speak in behalf of ourselves, and we speak in behalf of multitudes. A church to whom you are endeared, a missionary association bearing an apostolic name, an affectionate and indebted Sabbath school, who are here at this hour, a whole section of our city, many scores of sick-rooms,—German mothers, Holland mothers, mothers from England and Scotland,—bid us say, We all respect you, we love you, we thank God for your coming amongst us. Your prayers have strengthened us; your wise and motherly ministrations have relieved us. The very stones of this rocky place have been worn to smoothness by your busy footsteps. The very dust of our streets is hallowed.
Tears fall apace; yet we praise the Lord that there remaineth a rest for his people.
"Rest, weary head;
Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb;
Light from above has broken through its gloom;
Here in the place where once thy Saviour lay,
Where he shall wake thee on a future day,—
Like a tired child upon its mother's breast,—
Rest, sweetly rest.
"Rest, spirit free,
In the green pastures of the heavenly shore,
Where sin and sorrow can approach no more;
With all the flock by the Good Shepherd fed,
Beside the streams of life eternal led,
Forever with thy God and Saviour blest,
Rest, sweetly rest."